


Revelations

by Gardngoyle



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-05-20 11:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19375774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gardngoyle/pseuds/Gardngoyle
Summary: The Revelations Quest and the immediate aftermath.Why does the Inquisitor make the decision she does?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Vhenaria Lavellan is a Dual Wield Rogue.  
> Dorian's nickname for her is 'Dove' - the reason why will be in an upcoming story.

The Iron Bull only had one good eye, but that didn’t stop him from observing every little thing that happened at the Herald’s Rest. He knew that Krem was secretly falling for Maryden, and that the feelings were mutual. And that neither of them realized it - yet. He knew that Cassandra brought piles of boring Inquisition papers with her at lunch to hide the fact that she was re-reading Varric’s book. And he knew which of Dorian’s Messenger Corps were most likely working for Red.

Tonight, Bull had his eye on The Boss and Blackwall. They were over by the fire with Maryden, working out the lyrics and chords from another of the old songs. This one sounded like an anthem meant to inspire the troops. Blackwall was running out of tragic ballads and love songs. Not that Bull objected to love songs. Dorian’s singing voice was one of the best kept secrets in Thedas, and the Boss and Blackwall were sometimes able to coax a tune out of the mage when the four of them were away on campaign, far from the Inquisition camps. 

Blackwall got up to get another round of drinks. The Boss watched him go, and absently chewed at the wicked scar that bisected the left side of her mouth. That was her Thinking Face and it concerned Bull. She and Blackwall were in love and she shouldn’t have to think so hard about that. Worse yet, Bull knew exactly what was troubling her.  
.  
Months ago in Crestwood, he was with the Inquisitor, when she had met with Alistair Theirin, famed Warden and companion to the Hero of Ferelden. They had discussed the Wardens and the concerns that Alistair had about the Calling. Apparently, the Wardens were being influenced somehow – possibly by Corypheus himself.

Later that night, once they had settled in camp, The Boss had asked to talk to Bull alone. It was raining but they had found a rock outcropping where they could be almost dry and far enough away from camp for privacy. At first, she just sat there, staring into the rain and biting her lower lip where the scar crossed it. Bull waited quietly. Finally, The Boss said, ‘I need to know what you think of Blackwall.’

‘He’s a good man,’ Bull said, ‘fights for the team, is crazy about you.’ Bull stopped and looked at her. _Thinking Face. _‘And he’s been lying to you, but I don’t know why.’__

__‘You noticed it too, then?’ she asked softly._ _

__‘I’m a people person,’ Bull tried to lighten the mood. He could see it wasn’t working. ‘I’ve suspected for a while,’ he shrugged._ _

__‘The Calling. He isn’t feeling it. At all. He has nightmares, but not-‘ She took a breath and looked up at Bull, ‘not like Alistair described. And he doesn’t look – haunted - like Alistair does. No, he isn’t a Grey Warden. But Alistair recognized his name. So he isn’t Gordon Blackwall either.’_ _

__‘No, he’s not,’ Bull said._ _

__The Boss leaned out into the rain to assure herself they were still alone. ‘What do I do now?‘ She looked up at Bull again, ‘I mean this explains why he was so damned stubborn about starting a relationship. I’m in love with this man and I don’t even know his name.’_ _

__‘First of all – being the Herald of Andraste makes you tough to date,’ Bull chuckled. She frowned so he continued. ‘As for his deep dark secret, you have two choices,’ Bull set one large hand down on the Boss’s shoulder, ‘You can ask him about it or let it go. Besides, it’s _Blackwall. _How much trouble could he really be in? He’s probably running from some jealous husband.’__ __

__

__

____The Boss smiled thinly. ‘Jealous husband? You think so?’ She ran her long fingers through her wet hair, ‘I know I should ask him about it. But isn’t there enough going on right now? I should make everyone attend the war councils. All those little pins on the map are problems I’m supposed to solve, because people think I’m some sort of prophet or savior and the fact that I’m not Andrastian doesn’t seem to concern anyone. You and Dorian and Blackwall are the only things that keep me sane. Or I can let it go,’ her voice was rising, ‘just pretend everything is fine. I’m the head of the Inquisition, but I’m just going to ignore that the man I love has been lying to me - literally since the day I met him.’ By now she was trying to hold back tears._ _ _ _

____Bull pulled her into a big bear hug. ‘Listen, Boss,’ he said, ‘There’s only one reason to lie to you like this. Fear. He’s afraid of losing you. Losing all of us. I know three things about Blackwall, he’s a good man, he keeps you and Dorian safe, and everything he does is for you,’ he placed one huge finger on her chest, just above her breastbone. ‘Everything.’_ _ _ _

____They had left it at that and as far as Bull knew The Boss hadn’t pressed Blackwall on the subject. Bull would’ve known. She would have told Dorian and Dorian would have told him. Now, as Bull looked across the tavern at the Boss, he could see that she had been reminded in some small way that Blackwall wasn’t who he pretended to be, and it was bothering her again._ _ _ _

____Next day, Bull sent Messenger Terryn, he was pretty sure it was Terryn and not his twin Tad, down to the stables to tell Blackwall to meet him on the battlements. There was little risk of being overheard out here. They spoke of simple things at first, then Blackwall said, ‘You didn’t ask me up here to discuss the itinerary for the next campaign, what’s wrong?’_ _ _ _

____‘I was thinking about the first day I met The Boss,’ Bull looked out towards the horizon._ _ _ _

____‘I remember that day – on the beach on the Storm Coast,’ Blackwall replied._ _ _ _

____‘Right. And after setting up camp that first night I took the Lady aside, she wasn’t even The Inquisitor yet, and I told her straight out that I was Ben-Hassrath,’ Bull said, ‘I figured something called the Inquisition was going to figure me out pretty quick. Better she hear it straight from me.’_ _ _ _

____‘Your point being?’ Blackwall’s words were casual but Bull could see the Big Guy’s shoulders tense beneath his ever-present gambeson._ _ _ _

____‘You need to come clean with The Boss,’ Bull said bluntly. No reason to dance around it._ _ _ _

____‘Come clean?’ Blackwall’s voice was tense now too._ _ _ _

____‘I’ve been happy to mind my own business,’ Bull said, ‘But she knows you aren’t who you say you are. And it hurts her.’_ _ _ _

____‘Bull-‘ Blackwall began._ _ _ _

____‘Wait,’ Bull put up one hand, ‘Let me be clear here. I don’t give a shit who you are. If we didn’t already fight for the Inquisition, I’d ask you to join the Chargers. You’ve got my back, you protect the people I care about, and you fight for the team. But when you talk about being a Grey Warden, it’s like you are trying to convince yourself as well as us.’ Blackwall stood stoically, silently staring at the landscape but not seeing it. Finally, Bull turned to walk away. As he went, he slapped Blackwall on the shoulder ‘She needs to hear it from you, Big Guy. Don’t let her find out on her own.’_ _ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Iron Bull and Dorian were lazing in bed, snuggled up and watching the sun slant in through the windows. Bull kissed Dorian on the temple, and one big hand was searching under the covers, ‘Good Morning, Kadan,‘ Bull said.

And then they were startled by the sound of a fist pounding on the door.

‘Dorian! Wake up!’ It was the Boss and she was practically pulling the handle out of its socket.   
Dorian groaned in disappointment. He rose, grabbed a robe for himself, and flung the covers across The Iron Bull’s mid-section. ‘Put that thing away,’ he grinned.

‘Prude,’ Bull said amiably, tucking the blanket around him.

‘You’re a bloody spy – do you not grasp discretion?’ Dorian turned the door lock.

‘I’m naked in your bed,’ Bull chuckled, ‘I think we’re past discretion.’

Bull had seen The Boss angry before but nothing like this. Her face was red, her hair was disheveled, and she was shouting. ‘He’s gone, Dorian. Just gone. With only this for an explanation!’ She brandished papers at the mage and her voice rose even higher, ‘I woke up with a bloody constable badge and a fucking note! What kind of shit leaves a note for someone who can’t read!?’ A stream of dirty words poured from her. Dalish, Tevene, Common and a somewhat inventive Navarran term that both men wondered where she had heard. Did Cassandra talk like that when others weren’t around? 

‘All right, Dove,’ Dorian soothed, reaching futilely for the papers as the Inquisitor ranted, ‘if you rip the pages I won’t be able to read them either.’ He grabbed her arm instead and took the papers from her hand. One was a note from Blackwall. Dorian read it out loud, ‘There is little I can say to ease this pain. Just know that while it hurt to leave, it would’ve hurt more if I stayed. I am deeply sorry.’ Dorian’s brow furrowed, ‘Well, this is-‘

‘Fuck that fucking—FUCK!’ Vhenaria threw the constable badge across the room where it clattered against the stone wall and onto the floor.

‘Well now, that certainly illustrates the diversity of the word,’ Dorian said dryly. He was trying to ignore the tantrum. It was very out of character for Dove and it was making him nervous. It was horribly unfair, he knew, but she was always the one who stayed calm while other people had fits and crises around her.

Bull’s stomach flipped. He had a bad feeling that this was connected to his conversation with Blackwall from the day before. _You dumb shit, this is not what I meant. ___

__‘And what is this,’ Dorian asked, looking at the other page._ _

__‘I don’t know Dorian,’ Vhenaria snapped. ‘It was on the floor in the stable, as though it had been dropped when he - left. So I brought it with me.’ She slumped into a nearby chair. ‘He left.’ Her voice was quiet now and sad and hurt and confused._ _

__‘It looks like it was taken from one of your Spymaster’s reports.’ Dorian read, ‘Lieutenant Cyril Mornay, one of the soldiers responsible for the Callier massacre of 9:37, was captured in Lydes. Like the others who were arrested for their involvement, Mornay insists that he did not know who he was assassinating, and that he was just following orders from his captain. This captain, Thom Rainier, is still at large. Mornay is to be executed within the week in Val Royeaux.’_ _

__‘Get dressed,’ Vhenaria got up and headed for the door, ‘we are going to Val Royeaux. Now.’_ _

__‘Dove,’ Dorian tried to reason with her, ‘Perhaps we should think about this.’_ _

__The calm that came over Vhenaria was, in its own way, more frightening than the fury. ‘I’m not wasting my time in meetings, listening to my advisors argue over what course of action is best – speeches, soldiers, or spies. I’m the Inquisitor and I’m deciding. And I’ve decided to go find Blackwall and make him tell me what is going on. If you don’t want to come along I don’t care. Sorry to interrupt your morning gentlemen.’ The door clicked quietly behind her when she left._ _

__‘Well, shit,’ Bull said, getting up to pull on his pants, ‘Blackwall would never make it in the Qun. This is the opposite of what I told him to do.’_ _

__‘You know about this?’ Dorian raised an eyebrow._ _

__‘Yes,’ Bull neatened the bed covers, ‘but no. We’ve known Blackwall has been lying to us all along about who he is,’ Bull paused._ _

__Dorian nodded, ‘At first I didn’t think he was that clever or that stupid – but it is true nonetheless.’_ _

__‘I told Blackwall to come clean with The Boss.’_ _

__Dorian looked down at Blackwall’s note. A poor excuse for a goodbye, no words of love, and no explanation of where he might be going or why. Blackwall had run off on some mission of mercy instead of talking to her. ‘He chose Complete Moron instead.’_ _

__‘Looks like it,’ replied Bull._ _

__‘Well, if Dove finds out you had anything to do with this,’ Dorian grinned as began removing his traveling gear from the closet, ‘she’ll stake you out as dragon bait.’_ _

__‘Ooo, foreplay,’ Bull murmured pulling the mage into his arms._ _

__Dorian had an uncomfortable stray thought, ‘Amatus, you would never disappear and leave me a note like this? Would you?’ He hated that he sounded so pathetic, but Bull meant more to him than anyone in the world ever had and he could never really believe his luck that Bull loved him back._ _

__Bull made sure he was looking Dorian straight in the eye, ‘I don’t have a deep, dark past, Kadan. By Qunari standards I’m living a deep, dark present.’ He kissed Dorian gently, ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Bull leaned over and rubbed his cheek against Dorian’s, nipping at the mage’s ear, ‘Mmmm - Scruffy,’ he rumbled._ _

__Dorian responded by kissing Bull passionately. Then he stopped and took a deep breath, ‘As much as I would like to go back to bed and let you have your way,’ he kissed Bull again, then pulled reluctantly away, ‘there is no time for that right now. Just go get packed. Dove is not going to wait for stragglers.’_ _

__‘Ok,’ said Bull, still holding Dorian close and looking into his eyes, ‘But when we get to Val Royeaux we get the room we like at the Hotel Lutece.’_ _

__‘The one with the extra big bed and the balcony facing the sunset,’ Dorian smiled, ‘Of course.’_ _

__‘See you in the courtyard,’ Bull said and gave Dorian another kiss. ‘Love you,’ Bull grinned as he headed out the door._ _

__‘I love you too,’ Dorian called after him. He felt warm and happy as he turned to the pile of clothes on the chair._ _


	3. Chapter 3

The party made it to Val Royeaux in record time. Dorian, Iron Bull, Varric and Cullen accompanied Vhenaria and she pushed the pace the whole way. Varric’s pony had to be switched to a full-sized horse to keep up and someone had to help him mount and dismount, but he didn’t care. The Hero had finally done something unpredictable and possibly dastardly. Varric wasn’t going to miss this for anything. A light rain was falling when they entered the Summer Bazaar, but there were plenty of people standing around the gallows. Cullen split from the group to inform the Val Royeaux Guard Commander of their presence, but the others joined the gathering crowd.

“So we just wait until Blackwall shows up?’ Bull was at a loss. 

The Inquisition was well known here but the people in the courtyard paid them little mind as the Bailiff unrolled a parchment and prepared to speak. Kneeling in front of the Bailiff was an old soldier with a scarred face, hands bound. An executioner stood by. ‘Cyril Mornay,’ the Bailiff began, ‘for your crimes against the Empire of Orlais – for the murders of General Vincent Callier, Lady Lorette Callier, their four children, and their retainers, you are sentenced to be hanged from the neck until dead. Do you have anything to say in your defense?’

The man, Cyril Mornay, just knelt there. He looked sad and lost, but not, Vhenaria thought, guilty.

‘Well this is grim,’ said Varric.

‘Who’s this man to Blackwall? A brother? A friend?’ Dorian asked.

Mornay was on his feet now and the noose was around his neck. ‘Proceed,’ the Bailiff ordered.  
‘Stop!’ Vhenaria heard Blackwall’s voice from somewhere near the scaffold. The she saw him climbing the stairs.

‘A Grey Warden,’ the Bailiff noted with distaste.

Blackwall ignored the Bailiff and faced the crowd. ‘This man is innocent of the crimes lay before him. Orders were given, and he followed them like any good soldier.’ He turned toward the Bailiff, ‘he should not die for that mistake.’

‘Then find me the man who gave the order,’ the Bailiff said.

Varric was a step ahead of everyone else, ‘Awww, shit.’

‘Blackwall!’ Vhenaria’s voice rang out over the crowd. He heard her voice and turned to find her face in the crowd. _No,_ he thought, his heart breaking yet again, _She’s not supposed to be here. _I didn’t want this to touch her. But there was nothing for it now. There was no turning back.__

Dorian had realized what was going on almost as soon as Varric had and he slipped one strong arm around Vhenaria’s waist. His voice was quiet in her ear. ‘This is not the place for an outburst, Dove.’ Bull’s hand was on her shoulder. Vhenaria felt them closing ranks, protecting her. _What is happening??_

‘No, I am not Blackwall. I never was Blackwall.’ His eyes locked with hers and then he looked away. ‘Warden Blackwall is dead. And has been for years.’ Vhenaria could feel her legs growing weak and she clutched Dorian’s arm. ‘I assumed his name to hide, like a coward, from who I really am.’ 

Cyril Mornay finally recognized the man standing next to him, ‘You. After all this time.’ 

‘It’s over,’ the man that wasn’t Blackwall said, ‘I’m done hiding.’ He turned to fully face the crowd, feet apart. He looked ready to have the noose pulled over his head right then. ‘I gave the order. The crime is mine. I am Thom Rainier.’ The sentence hit Vhenaria in the chest like a fist. There were gasps and jeers from the crowd. Her fingers dug into Dorian’s arm. While Vhenaria’s thoughts spun round and round and she tried to keep from screaming, the man she knew as Blackwall was taken into custody and escorted to the prison. The people in the square were angry and called for Rainier to be hanged immediately. 

As the crowd dissipated, a man stepped close to them, ‘If you have goodbyes to say to Thom Rainier, you had better make them quick. We’ve waited long enough to stretch the bastard’s neck.’ 

Vhenaria’s heart was in her throat. She tried to push Dorian away so she could follow Blackwall, but instead of letting go he folded her into an embrace. ‘Listen to me, Dove,’ his voice was calm and soothing and quiet against the ringing in her ears, ‘as much as you hate it, you are the Inquisitor and you have to act the part.’ 

‘I have to see him,’ she clutched fistfuls of Dorian’s cloak. She felt desperate, like her skin had been turned inside out. ‘They are going to kill him,’ Vhenaria was dizzy. She could hardly breathe. She had heard the charges but couldn’t believe them. _The murders of General Vincent Callier, Lady Lorette Callier, their four children, and their retainers._ She wanted to cry and rant and curl up in a ball under the covers all at the same time. _Four children. Lady Lorette Callier. _‘Please, Dorian, I need to talk to him.’__

__‘I know, and we will arrange that, but first we need somewhere private where you can collect yourself,’ Dorian insisted._ _


	4. Chapter 4

Word had preceded their arrival and rooms had been prepared in the Imperial Palace. The trip had taken a grisly turn, so Dorian and Bull decided to forego their plan to stay at the _Hotel Lutece_ in favor of being nearby for Vhenaria. Food had been provided but no one could eat. Cullen was at the prison making arrangements for the Inquisitor to ‘interrogate the prisoner’ – not that she had much right to interfere with what was clearly an Orlesian matter. While the rest of the party waited for a summons, Vhenaria paced the room like a caged animal. She refused to let any of her companions discuss Thom Rainier or his crimes. ‘I will hear it from him,’ was all that she would say about it.

Finally, two Orlesian guards arrived to escort Vhenaria to the prison. Though the rain was falling more steadily now, Cullen met her in the courtyard. ‘Vhenaria,’ he said, ‘They have agreed to let you speak to Blackwall alone. He is the only prisoner being held right now and he must stay in his cell, but the guards have been cleared from the block.’

‘Thank you, Cullen,’ Vhenaria said, ‘I know it was a lot to ask.’

They passed through the Warden’s Office and the guard opened the cell-block door. Stone stairs lead down into the darkness. Cullen squeezed her hand, ‘I’ll wait for you right here,’ he said.

Vhenaria hated any underground space, and the situation only added to her unease. It was cold and damp and silent. Cobwebs stuck in the corners. Grates in the ceiling allowed a dim light to pattern the floor. She walked the length of the block and in the last cell on the left the man she knew as Warden Blackwall sat on a filthy cot. Vhenaria stood in a patch of light, silently staring at him. Watching him watch the floor. Her heart beat fiercely and she had too many questions to know where to begin. The silence stretched. Finally, he spoke without looking up. ‘I did not take Blackwall’s life. I traded his death.’ Vhenaria didn’t move. Of all the concerns she had, this was far down on the list. He continued, ‘He wanted me for the Wardens. But there was an ambush. Darkspawn. He was killed. I took his name to stop the world from losing a good man. But a good man - the man he was, wouldn’t have let another die in his place.’

Vhenaria approached the bars, unsure of what she was going to say, right up until she said it. ‘Why did you lie to me?’ Even she was surprised at how calm she sounded.

He still wouldn’t look at her. He was angry at himself for not being more clever about leaving and angry at her for being here now. ‘I never meant to lie to you. And when I did, I couldn’t take it back. You weren’t supposed to find me. You were just supposed to think that I was gone. I didn’t want you to see me like this.’

Vhenaria’s anger rose to the surface, ‘You wanted me to think you left me? That you were dead, or worse?’ _Face me you bastard._ ‘You’d break my heart and call it better?!’

‘Don’t you understand?’ He rose and grabbed the door, finally looking at her, ‘I gave the order to kill Lord Callier, his entourage. And I lied to my men about what they were doing!’ He punctuated his words by shaking the cell door.

_The truth at last,_ she thought, _but not an answer to my question._

‘When it came to light, I ran,’ he continued. ‘Those men. My men. Paid for my treason while I pretended to be a better man.’ Vhenaria stepped back from the bars. She thought she was going to be sick. Everything she had heard in the courtyard – it was true? ‘This is what I am!’ he said. ‘A murderer, a traitor…..a monster.’ He sank to his knees, ‘Wouldn’t you be happier thinking I was a noble man, a Grey Warden, instead of this? I would’ve saved you the pain of learning that all you knew about me was a lie. That you loved a lie.’ The last words came out as a provocation.

‘Not everything was a lie,’ Vhenaria fired back. ‘Not the way you care for the Children, or our friends. Sera. Dorian. Your friendship with Josie is no lie. Not the way you’ve helped people – helped me – be better than we were. That is not a lie. I don’t know who you were before, you stubborn bastard, but since the day I found you in the wilderness – you’ve been nothing but good. So stop it. Stop deciding things for me and just tell me everything from the beginning.’

And he told her. All of it. Without hesitation. His voice occasionally became defiant, but he did not blame others or make excuses. Vhenaria asked him about the slaughter of the General’s family but they both carefully avoided the worst of it. There had been four children in that carriage. Vhenaria wanted to comfort him, but she couldn’t. She wanted to be comforted by him, but that was impossible. She loved the man she knew, but there were too many threads here to follow. She didn’t even know what to call him. It was too much. Vhenaria turned from him, ‘That’s all for now,’ she said quietly, and walked away.

Vhenaria banged on the door at the top of the stairs, and a guard opened it for her. Cullen was there but she started to walk right past him. This was too hard. She had to think right now, not talk.

‘I have Leliana’s report on Thom Rainier,’ Cullen said, handing her some papers.

‘Not here, Cullen, I need some air.’ She folded the papers and tucked them into her jacket to give to Dorian. Cullen followed her out into the square. The rain had relented, and bright sunshine made everything sparkle. _How can the birds be singing while my heart hurts this way?_ When they were sure they were alone, she turned to the Commander, ‘Give me the overview.’

‘Looks like our friend was once a respected captain in the Orlesian Army,’ Cullen practically spit the words, ‘Before the civil war he was turned, persuaded to assassinate one of Celene’s biggest supporters. He led a group of fiercely loyal men on this mission and told them nothing of it. His men took the fall for him. A few lucky ones, like Mornay, managed to escape.’ Cullen paused, and his voice softened, ‘I’m sorry, Vhenaria, I know what he meant to you.’

_Past tense._ She pointlessly redirected her anger at Leliana. ‘Let me guess, our Spymaster had this lying around somewhere, didn’t she?’

‘It would have been difficult for anyone to connect Blackwall to Rainier. We all made this mistake,’ Cullen said. He could see Vhenaria’s calm beginning to break. He hated to see her this way. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, taking her hand. Cullen sighed heavily, ‘What do we do now?’

‘What do we do?’ Did she have options here? The man was guilty. Even as Inquisitor she had no say in this matter. Did she?

‘Black-…Rainier has accepted his fate, but you don’t have to.’ Cullen hesitated, ‘We have resources. If he is released to us, you may pass judgement on him yourself.’

_I can save him!_ The thought overwhelmed her. It was utterly selfish, and she didn’t care. She looked up at Cullen. He looked as though he regretted what he had just said. Vhenaria took a deep breath, ‘If it were up to you, what would you decide?’

Vhenaria flinched as Cullen’s anger resurfaced, ‘What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable. He betrayed their trust. Betrayed ours. I despise him for it.’ Cullen’s brow furrowed, ‘And yet he fought as a Warden, joined the Inquisition, spilled his blood for our cause. And the moment he shakes off his past - he turned around and owned up to it. Why?’

She couldn’t hold it in anymore, tears streamed silently down her face, ‘He did it for me.’

Cullen couldn’t stand to see her so upset. If he was honest with himself, he’d be happy to go down into the cell-block and wring Thom Rainier’s neck with his own hands. But Vhenaria had been there for him when he needed help and now she was the one who was hurting. Cullen pulled her into a hug, ‘Then only you can decide if it is enough.’

‘Please, help me get him out, Cullen,’ Vhenaria asked, ‘I don’t know what to do, but I can’t just walk away from him.’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ Cullen promised.


	5. Chapter 5

Plans were made for the party to return to Skyhold in the morning. Bull would be left behind accompany Blackwall if Celene granted The Inquisition’s request. Letters were written, ravens sent. Dove had been quiet at dinner. There was no mention of Blackwall during the meal, instead Varric told stories about Hawke and their adventures in Kirkwall. Not that Vhenaria was listening. She sat quietly moving the food around her plate and chewing absently on her lip. A habit Dorian abhorred and was constantly trying to get her to break. But he didn’t chide her about it now. He was worried about her. All her joy had slipped away and Dorian didn’t know what to do about it.

Later that night, Dorian decided to check on Vhenaria. He promised Bull he would be right back and went to her room. When Dorian entered, he found the door to the balcony open despite the cool of the evening. Dove was leaning on the door frame, staring out across the moonlit city toward the prison, though she couldn’t possibly see it from here. Dorian recognized the plain white nightgown she was wearing. He knew that it was frayed at the hem and the cuffs of the sleeves, but in the moonlight the fabric fairly glowed. The silver light enhanced everything about her. It kissed Vhenaria’s amber hair like a frost and made the scar across her lips look silvery and ephemeral. The green Vallaslin stood out boldly – coal black against luminescent skin. 

In his extensive reading, Dorian had seen mad scribblings, ghosts of rumors, whispers of conjecture that Andraste had been an elf. Seeing Vhenaria like this, he could almost believe it. She looked otherworldly, almost intangible. He believed that the Maker had sent her at just the right time, when Thedas needed her most, but he had never really believed she was the Herald. In this moment, he began to wonder. 

At first, Vhenaria didn’t acknowledge him, she just looked down at her hands. She was holding a small hand-carved halla, a beloved present from Blackwall. ‘He has never once said he loves me,’ she said in a faraway voice.

This issue was regularly discussed by the two of them, and it was always more irksome to Dorian that it was to her. Vhenaria often told Blackwall she loved him, in both Dalish and Common. It was clear to everyone at Skyhold - perhaps to everyone in Thedas, that he loved her too but the Oaf had never said the words. ‘It never seemed to bother you before,’ Dorian said cautiously. 

‘It never did,’ she looked up at him, the mundane nature of the conversation did nothing to dispel the spectral effect of the moonlight. ‘Until today.’ Vhenaria paused and stepped into the candlelit room. Dorian was relieved. She wasn’t the Herald, or Andraste. She was Dove again. ‘Today I couldn’t say it to him. He told me everything and I just said – ‘that’s all for now’ – and I turned my back on him.’

Several sarcastic comments sprang to mind. None of them were useful. The current situation was taking a terrible toll on his Dear Dove. Dorian was just as angry at Blackwall as everyone else, but all things being equal he was fond of the lumbering idiot and didn’t want to see him executed. Her next words shocked him to the core.

‘This is my fault,’ she whispered.

It took all of Dorian’s limited self-control to not shout at her when he asked, ‘Your fault? How could any of this be your fault?’

‘I’ve known he was lying to me for months. Months. And I just ignored it. I thought-’ Vhenaria set the halla figurine down on the table next to the well-worn, well-loved carved bear that she had carried with her since she was child. ‘I don’t know what I thought.’ Her fingers found the scar on her face, ‘Everyone has things they would walk away from. I thought he would tell me when he was ready. A jealous husband, a dead friend, a misunderstanding. Not……..this.’ Vhenaria couldn’t bring herself to say the words but they beat in a terrible chant in her ears. _The murders of General Vincent Callier, Lady Lorette Callier, their four children, and their retainers…Their four children….Four Children...Children._ ‘Dorian,’ she whispered frantically, ‘I don’t know what to do.’

He was at her side immediately, ‘All right, Dove, I think you need to get some rest.’ Dorian gently guided her toward the bed.

She started to lay down on top of the covers, but he managed to tuck her in properly. ‘I’m fine, _Mir’dath,_ ’ she said.

‘I know,’ Dorian pretended to believe her. He sat down on the edge of the bed and brushed her hair back from her face. ‘What can I do for you?’ Comforting other people was not one of his many strengths.

‘Do you remember our first adventure together?’ Vhenaria stared at nothing.

‘I do,’ Dorian said, ‘trudging along the road from Redcliffe to Haven.’

She didn’t look at him, but she did half-smile, ‘I don’t think lecturing Blackwall and Iron Bull about the use of soap qualifies as adventure.’

‘I disagree,’ he quipped, ‘bringing civilization to the less fortunate is a terrible burden.’ But he knew where her thoughts were headed, ‘You mean when Alexius sent us into the future.’

She nodded. ‘You know how to do that, don’t you? Send people through time,’ her voice was so sad.

‘No, Dove,’ his eyes felt teary. _Is it smoky in here from the hearth? _he wondered. ‘I don’t know how to send people through time.’__

__‘But you have to, _Mir’dath. _’ She sat up and grabbed his arms, ‘I just need to get back to before I even met him. When Leliana tells me to go find the missing Warden I can just – not.’___ _

___Dorian pulled her into his arms. They both needed the comfort. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered, trying to keep the tremor from his voice, ‘You can’t go back far enough to forget. And even if you could-‘ Dorian thought about Blackwall - all the games of Tabulim they had played, listening to him singing with Dove by the fire, how many times Blackwall had saved their lives. How the Lummox made Vhenaria laugh, and how much she loved him. Dorian was at a loss._ _ _

_____ _

_____ _

Vhenaria started sobbing against Dorian’s shoulder, ‘I don’t know what to do. I shouldn’t have told Cullen to get him out. But I can’t watch him die. I can’t believe….what he did. It hurts too much. I want to go back.’ This last came out in a broken whisper. 

__Dorian hushed her and got under the covers. She put her head on his chest and he curled his arm around her. ‘All right, I’m right here. And if that’s what you really want, I’ll find some way to send you back through time,’ he humored her. Anything to make her fall asleep. She would feel so much better on waking. ‘But you must be sure, Dove. I mean-' he swallowed back tears of his own, 'well, you might never meet me. Then where would I be? I can hardly be expected to take care of myself.’ She sobbed again and tightened her arm around him. Dorian kissed Vhenaria’s hair and let her cry it all out and finally she fell asleep in his arms._ _

__Sometime later, The Iron Bull came into the room. He was remarkably quiet for a man his size. Bull closed the balcony door, set a few logs on the fire, and approached the bed. There was his beloved, his Kadan, eyes closed, beautiful in sleep with the Inquisitors head on his chest. Vhenaria looked relaxed and safe for the first time since she had burst into Dorian’s room at Skyhold. Bull leaned over, kissed Dorian on the forehead, and went back to the adjoining room – his heart bursting with love for the handsome mage._ _


	6. Chapter 6

For the moment, it was blessedly quiet in the prison. The guards were understandably hostile and the last two days had been an exercise in endurance. He had been spat upon, ridiculed, denied food, denied rest, and beaten. Now he sat on his cot dozing. He was afraid to really sleep. Afraid of the guards harassing him, afraid of his dreams. He was thinking about Vhenaria. He had disappointed her and broken her heart and she had walked away from him in disgust. Now he could only pray that she had returned to Skyhold. He was going to die, that much was certain. And he knew it was justice. But he would spare her seeing it. 

He heard the tap tap tap of dress shoes on the uneven cobbles of the cell-block. He steeled himself for whatever new game the guards had devised. Then the scent of roses hit him like a fist. Not the soft sweetness of an afternoon garden. No, this was an onslaught of fragrance that mingled horribly with the dank must of the prison. _Please,_ he thought, _not her. Not now._

‘Well, Thom, I see fate has brought you back to me after all,’ her voice was a velvet knife in his heart. She spoke in Orlesian and his old life flashed in front of his eyes. He was Captain Rainier again. Strong, young, confident, sought after. Greedy, dismissive, vain. 

‘Ghislane,’ he replied in Common and did not look up at her.

‘I could not believe it when I heard you were – here,’ she stepped closer to the bars and he could see the skirt of her ball gown. A deep red embroidered with golden roses. She was going out for the evening after the visit. After the torture. ‘I waited for you,’ she said simply, in stubborn Orlesian. He looked up at her. The beautiful girl he had squired about Val Royeaux was gone. Ghislane’s face was an angry mask. Her lovely brunette tresses cut short in the latest fashion. Thom – he was Thom again now, in this place, with her – wouldn’t have recognized her without hearing her voice.

‘You know why I didn’t return,’ Thom said, just as stubbornly, in Common.

‘Yes, well, murder can put such a damper on marriage plans,’ Ghislane said shortly. ‘Or was that another of your lies?

Thom didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Thom had never had any intention of marrying Ghislane Laclere, she had only been the latest in a long string of dalliances. If they were both being honest Thom had never promised her anything. Ghislane had assumed and Thom hadn’t bothered to dissuade her. ‘There is so much I want to say to you,’ she said, ‘so many ways I want to hurt you.’

‘It only seems fair,’ Thom replied. He had hurt everyone in his life. And when he tired to fix it, he had hurt yet more people.

‘You knew that Lorette Callier was my friend,’ Ghislane whispered.

He had known, but it hadn’t mattered. He had his orders, gold in his pocket, and a group of loyal men. Yes, it was assassination, but that was how the game was played. His only concern had been the coin. And then - everything had gone wrong at once. ‘I can only say I’m sorry,’ Thom said, knowing that the words were completely useless.

‘Yes, I see just how sorry you are,’ Ghislane wrinkled her nose. She made sure she held his attention and said, ‘There was a baby. I didn’t want it so I went to that hag in the Bazaar and got a potion to rid myself of it.’

Thom stared at her. Afraid to believe her. Afraid not too.

‘I went mad after that,’ she continued, ‘Had to be locked in my room for the loss of the child and the shame of what you had done.’ She waited, but Thom didn’t speak. He couldn’t. ‘Then I went straight to Girard’s bed,’ She continued. ‘He was no friend to you Thom but he was very good to me,’ she raised one eyebrow suggestively.

Girard Durand and Thom Rainier had joined the Orlesian army together and become the best of friends. Girard was supposed to be with Thom that fateful morning, but he had been badly injured in a skirmish. He was safely in the infirmary on that terrible day.

Ghislane stepped back from the bars and lifted the hem of her skirt off the dirty floor. ‘Some of that is even true,' she said, 'And I hope you wonder about it as you swing.’ Her shoes tapped against the stones again as she walked down the block. Ghislane's voice drifted back to him as she went, ‘I asked the warden, but he has refused to allow me to slip the noose around your neck myself.’


	7. Chapter 7

Ryssa lazed in her favorite chair in Skyhold’s library. It was placed in the perfect spot to catch the afternoon sunshine, so she didn’t mind that there was no fire in here today. Enchanter Pavus was away on campaign with the Inquisitor in Val Royeaux. The rumor was that the party was due back today but that couldn’t be true. They would have had to start back the morning after they arrived. It was possible, but not likely.

Ryssa closed her finger in the copy of the Legend of the Three Sisters and thought about the rumors. Everything about the trip had been strange. Usually when the Enchanter went on campaign with Lady Lavellan there were a few days of preparation and packing. But this time the party had left Skyhold so quickly that Ryssa almost missed them entirely. She had been in the outer bailey approaching the main gate when they passed through on their way out of the castle - Lady Lavellan, Enchanter Pavus, Iron Bull, Deshyr Tethras, and Commander Rutherford. That was a surprise. The Commander usually stayed here at Skyhold. But Blackwall wasn’t with them and that was stranger still. Ryssa couldn’t remember a time when Lady Lavellan had gone on campaign without him. Afraid that he was sick or injured Ryssa had run straight to the stables and then to the infirmary, but she couldn’t find him. 

She decided to find Lady Montilyet. Josie was friends with Blackwall the same way Lady Lavellan and Commander Rutherford were close friends and Ryssa was sure she would know. But Josephine’s answer surprised and worried Ryssa. ‘We do not know what has happened to Warden Blackwall,’ Lady Montilyet said calmly, ‘but Lady Lavellan will find him.’ Ryssa had complete faith in the Inquisitor so she tried not to be scared. It would do no good to worry until she knew what to worry about.

As Ryssa opened her book again, she heard the castle trumpets sound that the Inquisitor was returning. She mentally counted the days yet again. Twelve. She was sure of it. Had they truly returned to Skyhold the same day they reached Val Royeaux or had something happened? Maybe they found Blackwall. 

Ryssa got up and carefully put the book back on the shelf. Enchanter Pavus was very serious about the library and its contents. She was always welcome here, but the books had to be put away when she was done.

Usually when the Inquisitor returned from campaign, Ryssa took her post as Messenger at the Enchanter’s door. Besides the fact that she had a crush on the dazzling mage, he always seemed genuinely happy to see her when he returned. Today was different. She wanted to see the party return. To make sure Blackwall was home and everything was all right. Ryssa made her way down to the main courtyard, past the servants who were running about lugging buckets of bath water and carrying piles of linens.

When she got down to the Great Hall steps, Lady Montilyet was standing there looking strained. The horses came through the main gate into the courtyard. Lady Lavellan rode in first. Her lips were set in a thin line and she stared straight ahead. Dorian was right behind her, keeping an eye on the Inquisitor as if she was fragile. A scowling Commander Rutherford was next and Varric was last. ‘Lady Montilyet,’ Ryssa asked cautiously, ‘where are Blackwall and Iron Bull?’

Josephine did not look at Ryssa when she answered, ‘Lady Nightingale has informed me that Bull is accompanying Blackwall from Val Royeaux separately.’

Ryssa recognized what Lady Montilyet was doing. It was called ‘diplomacy.’ She was telling the truth, but not all of it. Her tone scared Ryssa. Something was very wrong and Ryssa wasn’t sure she really wanted to know what was happening.


	8. Chapter 8

Vhenaria stared at the War Table. The day was gray and the light through the windows was muted. The mood here was tense, and she wasn’t helping. Usually – even when she and her advisors disagreed – there was friendly banter. Vhenaria would goad Cassandra into an argument, or try to make Cullen blush, which was getting more and more difficult as they got to know each other better. Today was all business. She wanted to get things over with and -- what? Return to her room to sulk? She knew that’s what it looked like. A childish tantrum. In truth, she was trying to puzzle the whole thing out without people trying to sway her opinion or just tell her what she wanted to hear. It had been four days since her return from Val Royeaux. Four long days that she had spent hiding in her room and only coming down to the Great Hall at mealtimes long enough to fill a plate and return to the Tower. Vhenaria looked at the table. One of Josie pins was placed on Val Royeaux.

The Inquisitor ran her fingers through her hair and took a breath. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘say what you have to say on the matter.’

There was a moment of silence and then Josie said, ‘We need to know what you intend to do with---’ she was at a loss. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t been first on the agenda. No one knew what to call him.

‘Blackwall,’ Vhenaria said, ‘Let’s stick with just plain Blackwall. No Warden. No Rain-‘ she sighed, ‘no Captain. No Ser. Just plain Blackwall. If I try to think of him any other way I get a headache. So, what do I do with - Blackwall?’ Vhenaria was radiating an anger and frustration that had been simmering since being brought to Haven all those months ago, ‘Give me my options.’

‘You are aware of my feelings on the subject, Inquisitor,’ Cullen was being formal with her and Vhenaria looked up to see her own anger mirrored in his eyes.

Josie looked down at her writing board and stayed quiet. Vhenaria was well aware of Lady Montilyet’s fondness for Blackwall. Theirs was a deep friendship and it hurt Vhenaria all over again to see Josie so sad.

‘He is an asset to the Inquisition,’ noted Leliana.

‘He must be punished,’ Cassandra said flatly, ‘his crimes are appalling. How many innocent people have died over what he has done?’

Vhenaria leaned her hands on the edge of the War Table and stared at the pins that ranged across the map. She chewed her lip and then her eyes began to focus on what she was seeing. Pins. All over the map. Representing missions – lost soldiers, refugees, villages threatened by rogue mages and Red Templars. People. ‘How many innocent people have died,’ she said slowly, ‘over what we have done?’

‘We save innocent people from dangerous ones,’ insisted Leliana.

‘Cullen,’ Vhenaria looked across the table at the Commander, ‘are you proud of everything you ever did as a Templar?’ Cullen shifted his weight. He didn’t drop his gaze, but he didn’t answer her either. That had been unfair. She already knew the answer because he had been very honest with her on this point. She hadn’t meant to hurt him or put him on the spot and she moved on. ‘Do you think The Iron Bull’s slate is clean?’ she continued, ‘Solas? Only Fen’harel himself could even guess at Solas’ past. Lady Vivienne loves the Great Game and everything associated with it. You don’t think she’s left innocent lives in ruins along the way? And Thom Rainier’s crime was a product of that same game. Dorian used to _own people_ – elves no less.’ Vhenaria turned to the Spymaster. ‘Leliana, when I asked the Commander how you planned to get Blackwall out of the Orlesian prison he suggested that it would be better if I did not know. I can only assume you intended to trade Blackwall’s life for someone else’s.’

‘The man I chose was a murderer, and he deserved to die,’ Leliana said.

‘I’m sure that makes everything all right,’ Vhenaria said dryly, ‘Were we going to give Blackwall yet another identity?’

‘I was trying to spare you the decision you now must make,’ Leliana noted testily.

‘I know you meant well, Leli,’ Vhenaria was so tired, ‘I’m just not sure it would have made things better.’

‘We – all – hate to see you like this,’ Cassandra said, reaching out and touching Vhenaria’s shoulder awkwardly. Cass’s feelings ran deep but she often had trouble expressing them.

‘Thanks, Cass,’ Vhenaria smiled wanly, ‘I’d venture to say that your conscience is clean. Do I have the power or authority to give up my job as Inquisitor and just make you Divine?’

‘I would be lying if I said I had not done regrettable things,’ Cassandra noted, her gaze shifting to Leliana.

Vhenaria took a deep breath and looked back at Leli, ‘And what about me? Are you sure I don’t have some dark and dangerous past? Am I the same woman I was before my face was scarred? Where have I been? You must have known I was _Na’Irrassal_ – separate from my clan. Or is this,’ she brandished the Mark at them, ‘the only reason I am here?’

‘Yes,’ said Leliana calmly, ‘I was aware that you were a ‘rogue elf’ before the events at the Conclave. I also happen to know that you are twice the woman now than you were before your face was scarred. While I could not acquire the details of that day, I am sure that you would never have had the courage or confidence to leave your clan before then. And we chose you to be the Inquisitor not only because the Maker sent you to us, but also because you have proven yourself again and again.’

Vhenaria was a little shaken, as Leliana intended, but she drove her point home nonetheless, ‘You are saying that since I met all of you, my actions have shown that I am trustworthy and honorable and that I have valuable leadership qualities,’ Vhenaria locked eyes with Cullen again. He was angry, and she had hurt him. She would apologize to him later, but he could hardly argue with her on this point.

‘Yes, exactly,’ Cassandra said warmly, momentarily misunderstanding Vhenaria’s intention. 

‘We should all keep that in mind over the next few days,’ Vhenaria said shortly. ‘Josie, when will he be here?’

‘Tomorrow afternoon,’ Josephine replied. 

‘After lunch I would like all the children who wander the courtyards and halls to be sent to my room for games and sweets,’ Vhenaria said, turning for the door, ‘I don’t want any of them seeing Blackwall in shackles.’


	9. Chapter 9

The cart was finally crossing the great bridge at Skyhold. He looked up long enough to see the Inquisitor’s Tower against the blue of the sky. The last ten days had been exhausting and confusing. This morning he had asked the young soldier who had handed him his breakfast to be allowed to walk the rest of the way. The young man, Erich Waters, had passed his request to Bull. Blackwall saw Bull just shake his head.

Two days after Ghislane had visited him, the Iron Bull had shown up with some Inquisition soldiers, all of them Ferelden or Elven, and taken custody of him. The usually jovial Qunari was all business.

The Belmont Crossing from Val Royeaux across the western arm of the Waking sea had been a nightmare. A storm had raged while Blackwall sat in a cage lashed to the deck. They had made the journey despite, and in reality, because of, the weather. Iron Bull had been clear with the guards, their job was to keep the Prisoner alive until he could be judged by the Inquisitor in Skyhold.

Judged by the Inquisitor. He thought on that as the ship rolled and pitched in the storm. As lightning flashed and thunder crashed, he tried to parse it out. She was to judge him. In the Great Hall of Skyhold. In front of their friends. His family. It couldn’t be true. And yet there was Iron Bull - watching the shoreline to assure his prisoner wasn’t assassinated on the way to Skyhold. Why had Vhenaria chosen this? How could she bear it? Josie would be there. Sera, the baby sister he’d never had. Dorian, the brother he was stuck with. He let his tears hide in the rain in his beard.

Skyhold rested on the border between Orlais and Ferelden, and so the overland portion of the journey had been no better than the crossing. They were in hostile territory until reaching the Frostback Mountains themselves. News traveled like a flash flood, and the people in every town and village along the way knew exactly who he was and where he was going. He sat in an open cart, hands shackled together, ankle shackled to the floor. Orlesians lined the roads, flinging derision and detritus at him, but he never reacted.

The nights were worse than having rotten food or hateful words thrown at him. He was allowed to eat with the men by the fire, but Bull would not let them converse with the Prisoner past basic mealtime manners. He sensed that a few of them wished to - but he didn’t press. These were young recruits, many of whom he had sparred with in the practice yard at Skyhold. He was proud of their discipline even under such bizarre circumstances.

Now, finally, after a week on the road, there was the towering bulk of Skyhold. He was – home? As much of a home as he’d had in a long time. And now he would die here at the hands of the woman he loved.

He remembered a conversation with Vhenaria from those early days at Skyhold. He told her about winning the Grand Tourney with the old chevalier. How he had turned down the knight's offer and went his own way. They had talked about the unthinkable. If he had followed the Chevalier – they never would have met. He had nearly told her the truth that day. He had nearly told her the truth so many times. But that was the moment he let slip away. That had been the time to tell her. If he hadn’t taken coin for the lives of children, they never would have met.

He looked down at his hands as the wagon passed through the outer gate. The people in the refugee camp between the curtain walls were quiet as he passed. He heard whispers but no cross words. No debris was thrown at him. Still he didn’t raise his head. He didn’t want anyone to see him this way. Men and women that he had bartered and joked with, soldiers he had trained, the Children. He couldn’t stand the thought of the Children, particularly Annabelle and Ryssa, seeing him brought to the castle prison in chains. 

The cart came to a halt in the upper courtyard. It was strangely quiet. He looked around. There was no crowd waiting to see his Fall, no children running about. Just Vhenaria and Josephine standing on the stairs to the Great Hall. They both wore the same expression. He knew both women well enough to know that the tight-lipped, controlled calm hid a morass of conflicting emotions.

Cullen officiated his transfer from the cart to the prison. He and Iron Bull were formal with each other. Formal with him. It was unnerving the way neither man looked at him. He was a stranger. Bull removed the leg-iron that connected him to the cart and Cullen led him down into the darkness, flanked by guards. The cell-block wasn’t pleasant, but it was nothing like his stay in Val Royeaux. The space was clean, the pallet on his cot was new.

The Commander closed the door behind him and turned the lock himself. Their eyes met in the dim light. He saw the anger there. The disappointment. The hurt. ‘Commander Ruth-‘ he began, but Cullen cut him off. ‘The Inquisitor will see you in the morning,’ Cullen said shortly, and walked away.

He sat on the cot. They hadn’t even bothered to remove the chains on his arms. He didn’t care. He was alone in a way he had never been before. Tomorrow morning, he would be brought to Vhenaria for judgement and learn his final fate. It would be over for him. But what about them? His friends – his family – here at Skyhold? What about Anabelle? Who would have to explain it to her? That she would never see him again.

He sat in the half-dark, tormented and anxious. A young guard he recognized, Mateo Vera, came to the cell carrying his dinner. A bowl of stew from the Herald’s Rest. His favorite meal. It would be his last meal - he was sure of it.


	10. Chapter 10

Vhenaria needed a distraction. She couldn’t sit alone in her rooms while Blackwall sat alone in the castle prison. Their friends were meeting at the Herald’s Rest but Vhenaria didn’t feel right joining them. Her responsibility in the matter had made her, at least temporarily, separate from the rest of them.

Instead, Vhenaria’s matronly ladie’s maid, Hannah, brought Anabelle, and Belle’s new kitten, to the Inquisitor’s quarters. Some weeks ago, the coal black kitten had started following Belle around the stable yard. The little girl squealed with delight and tried to pick him up. After she got scratched by the terrified creature, Blackwall had intervened. He sat on the ground next to Belle – his little ‘Sprout’ - and made her wait quietly for the cat to come near. Then he took her tiny hand in his and carefully showed her how to pat the kitten without scaring him, while repeating the basic instruction – ‘gentle.’ Like most three-year-olds Belle associated quietness with gentility and so she repeated the word at a whisper. As such, the word ‘gentle’ somehow became the cat’s name. All for the best because when Belle tried to say ‘kitty,’ it came out sounding like ‘titty.’ Iron Bull greatly approved of course, laughing heartily each time he asked Belle what kind of pet she had.

After Belle’s bath, Vhenaria sat on the couch with the little one and Hannah sat across from her on the other couch, knitting. Belle teased Gentle with a piece of yarn and sang a little song while Vhenaria carefully combed the tangles from Belle’s hair. When she was done Vhenaria set the comb aside and cuddled the little girl in her lap. 

Hannah watched from the corner of her eye, waiting for her opportunity to tuck a blanket around them and let them sleep. Belle had been asking for Blackwall ever since Lady Lavellan had returned without him. And the Lady herself had been anxious and irritable. Hannah could only hope that whatever happened tomorrow would put an end to the uncertainty that hung over the castle. Suddenly, Anabelle stirred. She turned to Lady Lavellan and put her little hand on Vhenaria’s cheek, ‘Where Bearwall?’ Belle asked for the thousandth time, ‘Storytime.’  
One thing Vhenaria would not do was lie to anyone, even and especially, children. But this was not a truth she could readily explain. ‘He can’t be here right now, _Da’len_ ,’ she began, ‘but I promise, he misses you very much.’ Vhenaria’s voice trembled.

Hannah came to Vhenaria’s rescue, ‘Say goodnight, my little love,’ she said, and Belle gave Vhenaria a hug. Hannah picked up the little girl and carried her to the enormous canopied bed. Gentle jumped onto the covers and started circling Belle to find the most comfortable spot. Hannah sat on the edge of the bed and told Belle a story about a little girl and her kitten who chased all the bad dreams away form the children in Skyhold. As Belle’s eyes began too close in sleep, Hannah leaned over and kissed her forehead. ‘Blackwall wants you to take good care of Gentle and get plenty of sleep,’ Hannah whispered. 

Vhenaria stared into the fire, only half listening to Hannah’s story. She was tired and yet restless at the same time. Vhenaria’s thoughts had run in circles from the moment she walked out of the prison in Val Royeaux. She could hear Blackwall’s words of affection, see him with the Children of Skyhold and then – when she felt certain about him – she would consider the Callier children. How terrified they must have been in their last moments. And for what? A stupid political game and the ‘glory’ of a misguided and heartless individual. But Blackwall – her Blackwall – wasn’t heartless. And her thoughts would loop again.

Hannah returned to the couch and gathered her knitting into her basket, ‘If you have no more need of me, M’lady, I’m off to bed,’ she said.

‘Hannah, would you mind terribly if I asked you to stay a little while and watch Anabelle? I need to-’ Vhenaria paused uncertainly, ‘I need some air.’

‘Of course,’ Hannah said, with no trace of irritation. ‘Take your time. Tomorrow will not be an easy day.’ Vhenaria rose and started for the stairs. ‘M’lady? May I say something about Blackwall?’

‘Of course,’ Vhenaria said, ‘you know I value your opinion.’ In truth Hannah was an irreplaceable source of information about how the people felt about the Inquisition and the decisions she made as its leader. 

‘I’ve lived a long life, my dear, and I’ve met plenty of people – good and bad,’ Hannah had settled on the couch again and picked up her knitting, ‘I don’t know anything about this Thom Rainier. But Blackwall? He’s a good man.’ She looked up at the Inquisitor, ‘And I’m not the only one who thinks so.’

‘Thank you, Hannah,’ Vhenaria smiled tiredly, ‘I will take that into consideration.’ She made her way down the stairs and through the Great Hall, past her Tower Guards, Lerith Ralaferin and Pellagrina De Arzco. She called them both by name as she passed. 

Vhenaria’s bare feet were silent on the stones of the Hall, across the courtyards and down the stairs to the stable yard. Vhenaria could see her breath in chilly air. She entered the stable slowly – steeling herself against the memories that lingered in every corner. All was as still as it had been that morning – how long had it been now? Not terribly long – two weeks or so - but it felt like years since she had awoken, alone, in the loft.

Vhenaria sat by the fire pit, folding her legs under her and quietly singing the song to Sylaise that she always sang when she built a fire. There was a spark from the flint, a tiny glow, and then a flame. She nursed it a bit and soon had a small fire. Not nearly enough to warm the space. Without Blackwall here it didn’t matter – she was cold inside. She fed the flames tiny bits of kindling – and waited.

It didn’t take long. No one in Skyhold was hurting quite the way Vhenaria Lavellan was, and that hurt drew him as the fire might draw a stranger in from the cold. ‘Cold in your heart, cold in his heart. What to do? What to say? Messenger, outrider, The Herald – but what is the message? I see the hurt, Lady. My Lady. How could he hurt with the same hands that love?’

‘Cole,’ Vhenaria’s voice came out cracked and strangled. She didn't try to hide her emotions. He knew what she was feeling and wasn’t even capable of judging her for it.

‘Yes?’

‘You knew all along,’ her breath hitched, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because I make hurt go away.’ When he said it like that, it seemed obvious. But there had to be more to it. ‘I tried to help his hurt. But it was tangled. Then it tangled with you.’ Cole’s face remained relaxed, but his words were frightening, ‘Nights praying for the Maker to take me, days spent fearing someone will find out. How much good must be done to balance the scales? Never enough. Never. The Maker answered with a Herald. Heart racing. Heart breaking.’ Cole’s voice rose in pitch and Vhenaria recognized her own words from the day she had met Blackwall in the Hinterlands, ‘What can one Warden do?’ Vhenaria looked up at Cole. His voice changed again - trying to be deep and forceful, ‘Save the fucking world if pressed.’ Cole’s impression of Blackwall’s voice was almost funny enough to make her smile but Cole was still speaking Blackwall’s thoughts, ‘Tell her. You must tell her. Can’t tell. Axes and ashes and facts and traps. Can’t make my lips say the words of what I did. What Rainer did. I’m not Rainer, but am I Blackwall? A dead man’s name, to hide the blame.’

‘He’s not Rainier?’ Vhenaria picked one thought among many, ‘What do you mean?’ She had heard Blackwall say something like that in the jail when he spoke of the true Warden’s death. Rainier died and Blackwall lived.

‘He would stand between Rainier and the carriage. But it doesn’t work like that, and he won’t let me help. I can’t untangle it.’ Cole paused. He looked at her a moment as though he was feeling everyone in Skyhold. ‘You have complicated friends,’ he said and she smiled. They stared at each other over the now dying flames, ‘Whatever you do – people will be angry with you.’

‘But what is the right thing?’ Vhenaria asked.

‘You already know,’ he said.

Vhenaria blinked and Cole was gone.


	11. Chapter 11

It was unusually quiet at the Herald’s Rest. Most nights the place was bustling. But now the atmosphere was subdued. Almost smothering. Dorian and Cullen were playing chess while Josie and Iron Bull half watched, but none of them were paying much attention. Varric had a notebook out across his knees where he sat by the fire, but he was doodling along the margin of the page rather than writing. Cass had a book in her hands but was staring at the fire. Sera’s eyes were closed, and her chin rested on her folded arms, she was kicking the table leg and taking occasional sips from her tankard.

‘Well’, said Cullen, moving a rook, ‘thank the Maker this is almost over. Tomorrow morning, Vhenaria will make her ruling and this whole incident will be behind us. We can finally get back to normal.’

‘Back to normal?’ Dorian queried from his side of the chessboard. ‘And what does that look like to you?’ Cassandra's gaze shifted to Dorian, but she didn’t say anything. Sera’s kicking stopped, and Cullen narrowed his eyes. When Dorian was sure he had everyone’s attention he asked, ‘What exactly do you think will happen tomorrow?’

‘Blackwall will be punished.’ Cullen said simply.

‘All right,’ said Dorian, ‘what are the options?’

‘Well, at the time, I thought we should leave him to the Orlesians, but..’ Cullen’s voice trailed off.

‘But that day, any one of us was willing to do or say anything to soothe our friend's broken heart,' Dorian conceded.

No one spoke for a moment while they considered the reality of Dorian’s question. ‘He should be forced to join the Grey Wardens,’ Cassandra stated simply. ‘That seems most appropriate.’

‘We are going to turn Blackwall over to the Wardens despite the fact that they have very likely been compromised by some evil force – possibly Corypheus himself.’ Dorian paused for effect, ‘We will make him an enemy?’

‘I wouldn’t want to meet him on the field,’ Bull mumbled. 

Cassandra made a disgusted sound but said no more.

‘Exile.’ This was Varric and he said the word as if he was testing it for possibilities.

‘Possible,’ Dorian allowed, ‘Dove could send him away to --- Antiva perhaps. A horrifying sentence I have no doubt. Let’s put that in the maybe column.’

‘Imprisonment?’ asked Bull.

‘Keep him here in the prison at Skyhold? Indefinitely?’ Dorian’s tone held a hint of sarcasm, ‘The thought has merit. We could even visit him if we so desired. We’ll play Tabulim through the bars.’ Dorian moved a pawn, then his eyes flicked to Josephine. She was sitting very still and staring into her wine goblet. It was no secret that she and Blackwall held a special - refreshingly platonic - fondness for one another. Dorian hated to continue his train of thought but he felt the point really should be made. ‘Commander,’ he said innocently, ‘I’m sure you have a useful opinion.’

‘You are well aware of my feelings on the subject,’ Cullen replied testily. 

‘I am,’ Dorian agreed, ‘but if we are going to talk about ‘getting back to normal’ we should examine the situation completely.’

‘Fine.’ Cullen was angry, but his voice remained quiet, ‘You want me to say it. I will.’ Cullen picked up Dorian’s black knight from the pieces removed from play. He turned it in his fingers then locked eyes with Dorian. ‘What Blackwall did, not just to the Callier family, but to his men - was unforgivable. Perhaps…he should be executed.’ When he said it out loud it sounded almost as abhorrent as the original crime had been.

There was a quiet shuffling in the room. Varric and Cass both closed their books, Sera hid her face in her arms to stifle the little cry that escaped her throat. Josie gasped and moved as if to leave but Iron Bull gently covered her hand with his before she could rise. 

‘Ah, yes, the crux of the matter,’ Dorian said. ‘Are we really hoping the Inquisitor goes so far as to kill him? Our friend and comrade-in-arms?’

‘You disagree?’ Cullen said evenly, still turning the knight in his hand.

‘My personal feelings regarding the Hairy Lummox are quite beside the point,’ Dorian replied, ‘The important thing is Dove. Let us suppose, for argument’s sake, that our Inquisitor decides to execute Thom Rainier. What then? Do you think she will turn such a grave responsibility over to another? Will you do the honors, Commander?’ Josie gasped again, and Dorian decided to skip the gory details he had hoped to goad Cullen with. ‘No. If she feelts she has to make such a choice, she will insist on doing it herself. Can you even imagine?’ Josie wiped a tear from her cheek and Dorian realized he’d gone just a little far. ‘Fear not, Lady Montilyet,’ Dorian said, turning his full attention to Josie. He took her free hand in both of his and squeezed gently. He looked her in the eye and said, ‘Our Dove would never make that choice. She doesn’t believe in that sort of thing. I promise you, Blackwall’s life will undoubtedly be spared.’ 

‘So,’ said Bull, ‘if giving him to the Wardens is out of the question, that leaves exile – or imprisonment.’

‘And then what?’ asked Varric.

‘That is the real question now, isn’t it?’ Dorian let Josie’s hand fall to her lap and sat back in his chair. ‘Since that lovely afternoon in Val Royeaux, Vhenaria has barely eaten, never smiles, and taken to hiding in her room.’

‘She doesn’t sing anymore,’ Varric said sadly.

‘No,’ Dorian was thoughtful, ‘she doesn’t. And that will be the way things are from now on. You had a War Room meeting yesterday, what was that like?’

‘She was angry and overwhelmed,’ Josephine replied quietly.

‘You are right about this much, Dorian,’ said Cassandra, ‘she will never choose execution.’

‘Commander, I won’t lie to you. If the punishments we’ve described are Vhenaria’s only options – we will never have normal again. Though I can’t imagine it will last long. She’s had far too many hours to think about this and refuses to discuss it even with me.’ Dorian took a sip from his cup, ‘I fear that our beloved friend and Inquisitor will simply point herself at Corypheus and be done with it. Whether we are ready or not.’

‘And if she fails?’ Varric asked somewhat rhetorically.

‘Maker help us,’ said Cassandra.

‘Quite,’ replied Dorian.


	12. Chapter 12

Ryssa was hiding on the scaffolding the dwarves were using while they repaired the walls of the Great Hall. She was far from the dais and couldn’t see too well because she had to stay out of sight. The Children of Skyhold had been sent up to Lady Lavellan’s quarters again. It had happened yesterday too and only later had Ryssa realized that it had been a plan to keep them from seeing Blackwall brought into the castle as a prisoner. Ryssa wasn’t sure what was going on, but she was intent on finding out. What could Blackwall possibly have done to make everyone act so strange?

Ryssa looked down at Lady Lavellan clutching the arms of her white throne. The chair was a beautiful thing. It was carved to look like halla horns and had plants growing all over it. Ryssa didn’t know if the Lady was really the Herald or not. Sometimes the idea seemed funny. Lady Lavellan had braided Ryssa’s hair and taught her how to swear in Dalish. That didn’t seem like very holy behavior. But when she sat in the Halla Horn Throne you could really believe it. The Herald of Andraste.

 

Vhenaria had a knot in her stomach as she surveyed the Great Hall. It seemed as though everyone in Skyhold was here. The toys and games that were usually scattered about the dais had been cleared away and the Children were up in the Tower again this morning. Blackwall was like a second father to so many of them, Vhenaria didn’t want any of them to see him in chains.

The doors at the far end of the hall opened and closed and a guard gave Josephine a signal. 

Josie stepped forward, ‘For judgement this day, Inquisitor, I must present Captain Thom Rainier, formally known to us as Warden Blackwall.’ Two guards escorted Blackwall down the hall to stand at the foot of the dais. Blackwall stared at the floor. He was filthy, shackled, and still wearing the gambeson he had on the day he was arrested in Val Royeaux. He looked tired and, for the first time since Vhenaria had met him, he looked old. The cold core in the pit of her stomach grew. ‘His crimes,’ Josie’s voice trembled the slightest bit, her eyes shifted to Blackwall and then away, ‘Well, you are aware of his crimes. It was no small expense to bring him here. But the decision of what to do with him now yours.’

Up on the scaffolding, Ryssa frowned in frustration. She had only hidden up here to hear the charges. She had heard rumors, but she didn’t believe any of the things she had heard.

Blackwall stood there, staring at the floor, and for Vhenaria everything else seemed to melt away. There was complete silence in the room. ‘I didn’t think this would be easy,’ she said, ‘but it’s harder than I thought.’

‘Another thing to regret,’ Blackwall said, he looked up at her and somehow, despite everything, he looked defiant. ‘What did you have to do to release me?’

‘Josephine called in a few favors. There are enough people out there who owe the Inquisition.’

Blackwall’s thoughts went immediately to Josie, all her hard work, wasted over him, ‘And what happens to the reputation the Ambassador has so carefully cultivated.’ His tone was accusatory. ‘The world will learn how you’ve used your influence. They’ll know the Inquisition is corrupt.’

He has no intention of helping me save him, Vhenaria thought. ‘I wish there’d been another way, but my options were limited.’

‘You could’ve left me there!’ Blackwall nearly shouted at her. Vhenaria heard Cullen’s boot scrape on the floor. She glanced his way and the anger she saw on the Commander’s face forced her to question the decision she had already made. ‘I accepted my punishment,’ Blackwall said, ‘I was ready for all this to end.’

All this? What was that supposed to mean? She was fighting for his very life and all he was doing was provoking her. Didn’t ‘All This’ also mean the Inquisition, his friends, the Children…her? She grasped the arms of the throne until her knuckles turned white. Their friends stood by, near the door to the Tower. Josie’s face showed horror at Blackwall’s behavior, Sera’s gaze was like so many arrows as she stared at him, Dorian’s brow was furrowed, Bull shook his head sadly, and Cullen looked like he might kill Blackwall himself - right there in the Hall. She looked back at Blackwall. He simply stared at her. Vhenaria knew that look. He was an immovable object. They seldom disagreed but when they did it was like battling a stone wall. If he thought she was going to execute him just to save face, he didn’t know her as well as either of them thought.

‘Why would you stop it?’ he asked more gently, trying to make her see, ‘What becomes of me now?’ Blackwall was scared. Not for himself, that part of him was long dead. His concern was for Vhenaria and Josephine. Saving him had been foolish - possibly even dangerous - and for what? There was only one reasonable punishment for what he had done as Thom Rainier. Vhenaria would never pass that responsibility onto another. She would carry out the sentence herself – and never be able to forgive herself. Both Vhenaria’s and Josie’s hearts would break, and his mistake would grow again. His crimes rippling and rippling out until they consumed even the women that he cared so deeply for. 

‘You have your freedom,’ Vhenaria said calmly, and there was a wave of gasps and murmurs throughout the room.

Blackwall was sure he had heard her wrong. ‘It cannot be as simple as that.’

‘It isn’t,’ she said, ‘you are free to atone as the man you are. Not the traitor that you were or the Warden you pretended to be.’

‘You’d accept that?’ he asked, cautious but hopeful, ‘And – what I used to be.’

‘I can never accept who you used be. But as I have never met him – I don’t need to,’ Vhenaria said. She wanted everyone in the room to understand why she was making the choice she was. She knew on the surface it looked selfish.

Blackwall nodded and stepped up the first three steps of the dais, ‘I lied about who I was. But I never lied about what I felt. No matter what I was or what becomes of me, right now I’m just a man – with my heart laid bare. I leave it in your hands.’

My Lady. The words hung in the air unspoken. My Lady. He hadn’t called her that once since this whole ordeal had begun. Vhenaria realized at the that moment that he had been saying ‘I love you’ everyday since they’d met. My Lady. She felt a little dizzy. She took a small breath and said, ‘You may have been ready to die, but I am not ready to let you go. Your place is here – with the Inquisition and with me.’

‘I don’t know how to be with you as Thom Rainier.’

Vhenaria rose from the throne, from the corner of her eye she could see Bull, ever the sentimental one, grinning from ear to ear. It heartened her, and her legs didn’t feel quite so weak. She stepped to the edge of the dais, ‘I think I should meet him a little at a time,’ she smiled softly at him, ‘You said you didn’t lie about how you felt. Maybe we can start there.’

Blackwall lumbered up the steps, he longed to take her in his arms but his hands were still shackled in front of him. Instead he leaned forward to kiss her. She wrapped one hand around the back of the neck and pulled him closer to her. She was very aware that everyone was watching. There were whispers and rumblings throughout the room. But Vhenaria didn’t care - she claimed him. He belonged to the Inquisition and was redeemed - under her protection. There would be no more pretending about who he was or who he loved.


	13. Chapter 13

Yet things did not go back to normal. No one knew what to call him and he was still uncomfortable with his old name, so he accepted Vhenaria’s suggestion that they just use Blackwall with no title or honorific. It suited him well enough he supposed.

For the first days after his pardon Blackwall kept to himself, in the barn, carving toys and watching the children play in the yard. he went to the kitchens for meals instead of the Hall or the Herald’s Rest. He was embarrassed. Not just for who he was and what he had done but for all the fuss and bother. Sera visited him and sat on the edge of the workbench chattering away. She called him names and mocked his choices and that was fine. It meant she forgave him. Bull came down to check on him, though he made it look like he was there to play with the kids. And Varric stopped in long enough to congratulate him on being interesting. Still he did not rejoin the company. Even though he and Vhenaria had shared was Sera referred to as a ‘sickening-romantic-whatever’ moment, he still was unable to face her.

Josie managed to coax him out of hiding to take her for a walk on the battlements. Her always sunny disposition had made him smile for the first time in weeks. Josie talked about simple little gossips and trivial castle matters and he talked about the horses and the Children and the other goings-on in the lower courtyard. Josie implored him to go to Vhenaria and start over. He had never been awkward with women before, this was no time to start. He laughed self-consciously and tried to explain how ashamed he felt about everything. And none of Josie’s reassurances could change his mind. 

Finally, Dorian appeared at the barn door. Blackwall knew his time was up. ‘Hello, Dorian,’ he said, ‘I seldom see you down here.’

‘Yes, well, it smells and you’re here,’ Dorian rejoined.

‘Well,’ Blackwall shrugged, ‘I have to be somewhere.’

‘An excellent point,’ Dorian replied, ‘As such, you may as well join the rest of us at the Herald’s Rest.’

‘No, thanks, Dorian I’d rather eat with the horses,’ Blackwall replied, slipping easily into the pleasantly antagonistic banter they were known for.

‘I should hope you haven’t been reduced to eating oats,’ Dorian said, ‘Come now, Varric’s taken all of our money, it’s your turn to lose at Wicked Grace.’

‘Did she send you down here to fetch me?’

‘I do not fetch,’ Dorian’s eyebrow raised. ‘No, Dove is ‘giving you space’, despite my suggestion the two of you spend a night getting hay in places you didn’t even know you had.’

‘I can’t-’ Blackwall wouldn’t meet Dorian’s eyes, ‘after everything I’ve done. I’m not-‘

‘My, my, aren’t we dramatic,’ Dorian’s fingers fluttered in the air, ‘You’re done now Blackwall. We’ve all had enough of the brooding and self-hatred. You’re too hard on yourself.’

‘Too hard on myself? Is this setting up a punchline?

‘No,’ Dorian said seriously, ‘you should let yourself off the hook. I know bad men and - well - you're not one.

‘I'm-‘ Blackwall was at a loss, ‘I’m not sure how to respond.’

‘Of course not. Let's not go crazy with defying expectations. You’ll give me a headache,’ Dorian replied, ‘But we should head up to dinner. Everyone is waiting.’

Blackwall stepped out into the sunlight and the two of them started across the yard, ‘Everyone?’

‘Now that you mention it Cassandra and Cullen found something else to do,’ Dorian said, ‘I wonder if they are doing it together. Now there’s a match. She’s a force of nature and he’s – well let’s just say their babies would be formidable AND boring. I daresay, I’d fear for the Commander’s safety.’

Blackwall knew Dorian was just trying to distract him from the obvious. The Seeker and The Commander wanted nothing to do with him. He couldn’t blame them, but it still hurt.

As they crossed the courtyard towards the tavern they saw Josie and Vhenaria coming down the Great Hall steps. He hadn’t seen Vhenaria since he had kissed her in the Great Hall. She looked lovely, in a soft green dress and her hair pulled up in some complicated braid.

There was an awkward moment at the door of the tavern when the gentlemen caught up with the ladies. Blackwall wasn’t sure what to say to Vhenaria. And Vhenaria didn’t like the manipulative quality of the meeting.

Inside, the couple was seated at a quiet table in the corner and the barmaid, Annika, brought them their favorite. Two bowls of tusket stew, a tankard of ale, and a cup of wine. Everything should have been normal. Except they never sat by themselves at the tavern. They had plenty of time to themselves out on campaign, or at the stable, or in the Tower room. When they were here at the Herald’s Rest they ate with their friends and laughed and joked and flirted. This was uncomfortable and the two of them ate in silence.

Vhenaria finished sopping up gravy with the coarse brown bread and leaned back in her chair. Her brow furrowed, and she slowly set her cup down on the table. ‘What,’ she started – paused – and started again, ‘is going on now?’

Blackwall turned to look at the big table by the fire where their friends were sitting. Varric was standing on the raised heath. He had his feet wide apart and his hands behind his back, pretending to be Blackwall standing on the scaffold. Vhenaria heard Sera’s voice. ‘Blackwall!’ she said melodramatically.

‘I’m not Blackwall!’ Varric said, ‘I’m---wait,’ he pretended to check his pockets and ‘found’ a piece of imaginary paper. ‘I’m Thom Rainwall! No, that’s not right,’ he squinted at his hand, ‘Walter Blackrain!‘

Vhenaria was done with the pantomime and started to get up – her expression fierce. ‘I’m going back to my room-‘

‘Wait,’ Blackwall took her arm gently and then let go again as though he’d burned himself. ‘It’s all right, better that they have their fun. They’re angry. As well they should be. They’re just putting me through my paces.’

Iron Bull stood, ‘Hey Just-Plain-Blackwall,’ he called out joyfully, ‘It’s your turn to buy a round!’

Blackwall rose, ordered drinks for everyone, and walked into the fray. Josephine came over to where Vhenaria was standing, ‘Are you all right?’

‘No, I’m not,’ Vhenaria was tired and sad, ‘He and I can’t even have a pleasant meal together. We don’t know what to say to each other.’

‘Dorian and I thought you just needed a nudge,’ Josie replied, ‘Apparently we were wrong.’

‘You meant well,’ Vhenaria shrugged.

Meanwhile, Varric asked ‘Blackrain’ to play a game of Wicked Grace.

‘Better to play ‘Dead Man’s Trick’ with Dumb Rainy.’ Sera guffawed.

Blackwall raised an eyebrow, but otherwise ignored Sera’s jibe. ‘So you don’t think I’m dreadful?’ he asked Varric.

‘Actually, I thought you were boring before. Completely different. We’re all dreadful. Every one of us, fundamentally flawed in a hundred ways,’ Varric lamented, ‘That’s why we’re here isn’t it? Take all the risks, so the good people stay home where it’s safe.’ Varric cut the cards and dealt them out. ‘With the whole ‘Blackwall’ thing, you told a story so compelling even you started to believe it.’

Blackwall looked at his cards and sipped from his tankard, ‘That’s better than saying ‘you’re a dirty liar.’ I’ll take it.’

‘I’ll say it!’ Sera announced, ‘You’re a dirty liar.’

‘Thank you, Sera,’ Blackwall grinned, ‘I knew I could count on you.’

Once Varric had taken most of Blackwall’s money, and the rest had been spent on rounds of drinks, Dorian produced some papers from his pocket. ‘What have we here?’ he said with mock innocence, ‘It’s our Spymaster’s report on that Orlesian boogeyman, Thom Rainier.’

“That bastard,’ said Iron Bull.

‘Ass,’ Sera got right to the point.

‘A dastardly villain, that one,’ Varric chuckled.

Vhenaria stayed quiet and just watched. 

‘I heard he was quite the cad,’ said Josie airly.

‘Yes, well, this report is very thorough. Thom Rainier was indeed quite the boulevardier back in his…’ Dorian’s eyes flicked to Blackwall with feigned distaste, ‘prime.’

‘A bowl-headed what thingy?’ asked Sera.

‘A man about town, a gallant, a womanizer,’ Dorian emphasized this last piece of information with an arched eyebrow. Everyone was laughing now. Dorian winked at Vhenaria, then turned back to the page. ‘It seems Captain Rainier enjoyed the finer things in life, good wine, fine horses and what’s this? Fashionable clothes!’ He sighed and looked at Blackwall meaningfully, ‘Now look at you - disgraceful. Wearing the products of hapless livestock instead of silk and velvet and worse yet, disparaging those of us who prefer to look presentable.’ Dorian smoothed imaginary wrinkles from the front of his tunic.

‘That’s not presentable it’s pretentious,’ Blackwall replied amiably. This he understood. They could’ve just as easily refused to speak to him at all. He set one elbow on the table and pointed a thumb at his earring, ‘I wear one gold hoop in my ear and you wear,’ he pointed at Dorian, ‘how many is that?’ He asked deliberately. Blackwall already knew what Dorian would say next.

‘Three and five are eight,’ Dorian said with exaggerated condescension, ‘I’m not surprised you can’t count that high. How did you ever manage to get women into your bed?’

‘He must have been very charming,’ said Josie cautiously.

‘Just another word for lying,’ Sera said gleefully.

But Blackwall grinned, ‘I was charming. Once upon a time.’

‘Once upon a time,’ began Varric, ‘there was a scoundrel named Thom Wallrain who led innocent women astray….’

‘Innocent? In Orlais!’ shouted Sera, ‘Why do you think they all wear masks?’

‘So,’ said Iron Bull, ‘Just how many women are we talking about?’

‘Any more than eight and he won’t be able to tell you,’ noted Dorian dryly.

Vhenaria stayed out of the fray. She wasn’t being ignored exactly and was sure she could have added a jibe – but this was between Blackwall and their friends. Later she would have to have a different sort of conversation with him. Then she noticed Cole’s absence and looked up to the gallery that ran the perimeter of the room. Cole was leaning over the rail, watching the fun with a big grin on his face. All this teasing was a good thing.


	14. Chapter 14

Later, Blackwall and Vhenaria walked back to the Tower together. She hooked her arm around his as Josie had taught her to do all those months ago when they were still in Haven. Blackwall stopped at the last door, the one up to her room. Vhenaria tugged his arm gently, to let him know it was all right to come up but he remained still. She stepped closer to him, hoping for a good night kiss but he moved away. 

‘Please. Don’t,’ he said. Not _My Lady, don’t._ Just please. 

‘I’m sorry.’ She said, still unsure how to address him. Vhenaria was hurt, but it was unfair to push him. ‘Goodnight, then,’ she whispered.

He said good night and turned away. Vhenaria closed the door behind him and climbed up to her room. A fire burned in the hearth and she was grateful for Hannah’s constant efforts to make sure the room stayed comfortable. She sat on the couch she used to share with Blackwall, and finger-combed the braid from her hair. 

There was no use crying over it. She had done enough crying in the last few weeks. Her relationship with the man she knew as Blackwall was over. They couldn’t talk to each other anymore. They couldn’t even find names to greet each other with. In the morning she would ask Cassandra to join her on campaign. Better Cassandra than Varric – she did not want him asking annoying questions while he tried to write about Thom Rainier, and she tried to forget him. Then Vhenaria would have Cullen transfer Blackwall to somewhere he could be useful training troops. She would discuss it with Josie first. Vhenaria didn’t want to blindside Josie or leave the decision to Cullen. The Commander would take pleasure in sending Blackwall somewhere horrible like the Fallow Mire or the Forbidden Oasis.

Vhenaria tried to imagine what campaigning without Blackwall would be like. Cass was an excellent fighter and a good person, but Vhenaria was used to Bull, Dorian, and Blackwall. They knew each other’s rituals and rhythms. As she tried to picture how different things would be without him – both here and on the road - she heard his tread on the stairs. It could only be him. She stood and came looking for him as he made his way through the profusion of plants that had turned her quarters into a garden.

When he saw her, he stopped. Uncertain. Vhenaria stepped forward and reached for his face so she could kiss him. Her caught her hands before she could touch his cheeks. Her heart thumped in her chest. Another rejection? Then why had he come back? A proper goodbye this time? Blackwall turned her right hand over and kissed her wrist. Echoes of nights spent together ran up her arm and she realized she was holding her breath. He pulled her against him and one hand tipped her face up to his. The kiss was passionate and sweet.

Blackwall set his forehead against hers and wrapped his arms around her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘It sounds stupid even to me to hear myself say it. But I am sorry. And it’s not enough. I don’t know how to be with you - but I don’t think I can be without you.’

‘How about just being the man I am in love with?’ Vhenaria said patiently, ‘Can’t we just start there?’

‘I don’t know who that is!’ He let go of her and stepped back, not angry – only frustrated, ‘Do you? I’m not Warden Blackwall. And I’m not Thom Rainier.’

‘I never said you were either of those men,’ she said calmly, ‘Do you know how long I’ve known you weren’t Warden Blackwall?’

The question stopped him cold. ‘What?’

‘Months. Almost since the beginning. I only had suspicions until the day we met Alistair.’ Vhenaria crossed her arms and smiled a wry smile, ‘I don’t know how you managed to hide so long. You’re a terrible liar. Was I really supposed to believe you were the only Warden in Thedas who wasn’t hearing the Calling?’

Bull had told him that she knew, but Blackwall assumed she had only just figured it out. She had known for months? ‘Then why didn’t you say something?’ he didn’t even realize he’d asked the question out loud.

‘Because I love you, _Mir’Vhen._ The man who told me about the Grand Tourney, and makes toys for the Children, and teaches farmers how to fight off bandits. The man that smells like pine trees and leather and horses. The man who swore he could do anything if only I was at his side. That’s you, you dumb shit. And I assumed you would tell me when you were ready, not run off and try to get yourself killed.’ She laughed because she was afraid she would cry again, ‘Do you know how scared I was that day? I thought they were going to hang you right in front of me.’ She looked away and took a shaky breath. She felt a little dizzy and suddenly his arms were around her again.

‘I’m sorry, My Lady,’ he said in her ear, ‘I’m so sorry. I should have….done so many things differently.’

Vhenaria felt herself relax against him. Relax for the first time since she had found the note and the constable badge. ‘Just don’t leave me like that again,’ she whispered.

‘I won’t,’ he said, kissing her temple, ‘not unless you send my away.’

‘One question,’ she moved so their foreheads were pressed together. His arms still encircled her waist. ‘I still don’t know what to call you.’

‘Maybe not _you dumb shit._ ’ At least not in front of…well, any of the others.’ He chuckled.

‘That was Bull, actually,’ she laughed softly, ‘For the last few weeks Dorian has simply called you Moron.’

‘Nothing new there,’ Blackwall was gently guiding her backwards toward the bed, kissing her face.

‘And Sera-‘ Vhenaria gasped at Blackwall’s attentions.

‘I can only imagine.’

‘She used some curses I’ve never even heard.’

‘Knowing Sera they were names for body parts,’ they had reached the edge of bed, ‘why don’t you tell me the words and I’ll point out the parts.’ One hand was gripping the back of her neck, the other was pulling up her skirt.

‘Oh, you think you can just come back into my bed,’ it was a teasing statement until she used his name, ‘….Thom?’ He flinched as if she had struck him a blow and dropped the hem of her dress. They locked eyes a moment and both shook their heads at the same time, ‘I’m sorry.’ Vhenaria said.

‘Nothing to be sorry for. I just-‘ Blackwall sighed, ‘can we stick with plain Blackwall for now?’

‘You mean Just-Plain-Blackwall?’ Vhenaria asked innocently.

‘Not quite what I meant, Quizzy-thing,’ Blackwall invoked one of Sera’s nicknames and started to tickle her. 

Vhenaria slipped away from him and moved onto the big bed and out of his reach. She expected him to follow - but he didn’t. He just stood there, looking at her with a half smile. For a moment Vhenaria was confused. Had they made another misstep? ‘Problem?’ She asked.

‘No, I’m just...waiting,’ he replied.

She realized he was waiting for permission. ‘I don’t know…’ Vhenaria sighed dramatically. Stifling a giggle, she tried to lower her voice and sound like him. Remind him of the first night they had spent together, here in this room. ‘If only you knew how confounding you are,’ she said, ‘How - impossibly infuriating.’

‘Throwing my own words back at me are you?’ he asked, pretending to be hurt. But he didn’t move.

‘What exactly are you waiting for?’ Vhenaria teased.

‘I think you know,’ Blackwall replied. ‘My Lady.’

Vhenaria smiled. ‘ _Mir’vhen,_ ’ she said, ‘I think I need help getting my dress unlaced.’

‘Do you?’ Blackwall smirked, ‘well, if you come over here-’ 

Vhenaria reached over and grabbed him by the neck of his gambeson, ‘Come here you-’ she kissed him forcefully, ‘dumb shit.’ 

She giggled as he fell onto the bed and grabbed her, ‘Oh is that how it is?’

‘For now,’ she said.

‘Fair enough,’ he smiled into her eyes, ‘Anything you wish, My Lady.’


End file.
